Mermaid Beach
by Taliahah
Summary: Traumatized after a mission gone badly wrong, Annie Walker finds herself on a healing journey with Eyal Lavin. Thanks for the reviews on this, my first ever fanfic - it was intended as a standalone short but the warm reception has encouraged me to continue.
1. Deeper Waters

Annie Walker looked at the closed miniblinds crossing the window. From the glimmer between the slats she knew it was daytime. Perhaps she should open them. She vaguely recalled having the same internal conversation with herself at some point previously. Was that yesterday? She tried to remember. Her shoulders slumped with the effort.

If she opened the blinds, she or someone else would later have to close them. This seemed an unnecessary waste of effort.

Perhaps tomorrow she would open them.

It felt like she had not been breathing, then, suddenly, the full anxiety catching in her chest, making her gasp for breath. She swallowed and it was hard for her saliva to slide down her throat; it seemed like she had no throat, no opening for air. She sat up. The movement seemed to ease the constriction and she took another breath, deeper this time, a slow sursurration of sound against the blip blip blip of her heart, racing. There was no monitor on her, and she didn't think she had made any noise, but still the nurse peeked in. "Everything ok?" she asked, her voice lilting, her hand shining a tiny flashlight. Mutely, Annie nodded. But the nurse came forward anyway, her other hand holding a tiny fluted paper cup. "This will help, I think! Help you sleep." Annie clawed the pills from the woman's hand and swallowed them as the nurse turned to pour her a cup of water. What was the woman's accent? I should know this. I should know that language she is using to note something about me on the chart, the many slight strokes, horizontal, vertical,no curves. Once, I knew that.

Another night. This time, she woke reeling from bizarre dreams, bodies with faces she knew drifting in the water, something trapping her by the ankle, a grey darkness broken abruptly by searchlights, noise, underwater explosions. Struggling toward consciousness, all she could think was that her career was over. Her career with the CIA was over. They did not keep spies on the roster who spent their days wondering if they could - or should - open the blinds and look out.

Then she tried to recall what the letters CIA stood for. Culinary Institute of America! she thought, momentarily triumphant.

No, that wasn't it. But it had something to do with America, anyway.

The nurse showed up with the cup of pills, this time the water already poured.

II.

"I think we open these today, just for a little while," the nurse - it was another nurse, but so similar, same uniform, same courteous, careful manner.

"No..." Annie protested, not sure why, but the light seemed too bright, unwelcome. She turned her head away.

III.

Annie stared at the hairbrush. They had helped her shower, a comical dance in the oversize stall, one rapidly wet nurse with an elasticized clear plastic cap over her hair and nurse's cap, speckled with shower drops that made grey spots on the white fabric of her nurse's uniform. Now they had dried her off and blow-dried her hair though the noise was so loud it had brought tears to her eyes, and then she had struggled into different clothing, not her pyjamas and robe of which she had three identical sets. Now this cheap plastic brush pressed into her hand, and yet another encouraging pleasant nurse urging her to use it. To make her stop being encouraging, Annie raised it to her scalp and took a few unimpressive strokes. "Good, good, now don't you feel better!"

"No." Her negativity briefly nonplussed the nurse, whose eyebrows raised for a moment. Incomplete training, Annie thought. This one should have washed out. As I have.

"Oh... oh but you will, you will, you will see. Do a little more. You have a visitor waiting."

"A doctor?" She'd had no visitors that she could remember clearly, though she thought someone unknown to her had once sat at her bedside and asked questions at her for a time. When had that been?

"No, no, a visitor. A real visitor. It will be nice, you will see." The nurse was beaming at her, her eyebrows shooting up again, as if to encourage Annie's mood to rise. Her visitor seemed to be making the nurse happy, at least. But she felt her own heart start to race. Someone coming to analyze her, check her, find her officially unfit for service, for duty. She blinked her eyes. She would not cry.

They wanted to take her somewhere to Meet Her Visitor, but she would not go and they gave up and she stayed seated in her room. She brushed her hair some more. Maybe they would make the visitor go away, tell them she was having a bad day and to come back another time.

There was a knock at the door, a soft tapping, not as decisive as the nurses' knocks when they were finding out if she was ready to go to therapy or awake for a meal. There was something familiar about the knock, but it still made her stomach react; what was beyond her door, what was wanting to get in? She was clutching the brush like a weapon and staring at the door. The knock was repeated.

"Neshema?" She heard the word and stared at the brush in her hand. She got up and went to the door, pressed her hand against it, and said the word. She was breathing rapidly, but it was not with the anxiety, but with relief. Pressing herself up against the door was not the way to go. She might question opening the blinds, but opening this door was, conveniently for her, a no-brainer.

"Eyal."

"Annie." She stared at him. No wonder the nurse had been so happy, with him loitering about the facility, with his dark good looks and killer smile. But he seemed subdued, probably cautioned to be restrained, to match her mood, see what she presented.

Which, at this moment, was her collapsing against him and sobbing into his polo shirt and feeling one big hand cradling the back of her head, another sliding down to the small of her back. After a few minutes like that, she felt as if she could almost resume control, and pulled away, thinking that all the nurses' care in making her presentable had now been utterly lost. His shirt was visibly stained with tears. "I'm sorry," she said, backing up, feeling for the tissue box she knew was on the small round table.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Neshema. It's quite charming, really. Has anyone ever told you, you cry cute?" He helped her with her blind flailing for the Kleenex. "Your nose hardly reddens at all, and your eyes are sparkling in a very fetching manner. Admittedly, we could do without the nasal discharge - here, blow - there. Much better."

"Thank you. But why are you here?"

"I was given the assignment to look in on you."

"From Joan?" The name came easily to her mind now. Joan was her boss. She worked for Joan. At the CIA, which was not the Culinary Institute of America but the Central Intelligence Agency.

"You know I don't work for Joan. From Rivka, but I presume Joan - or Auggie - must be behind it somehow." Auggie! Another name, one that lifted her heart. 'It would not be the first time that Auggie, who loves you, would send me to do what he cannot, even if it means putting another man who does - in your - lovely bedroom!" Eyal twisted the pole that opened the blinds. The light poured in, illuminating the standard nursing-home bed with its plain counterpane and the serviceable furniture. But Annie was still working out his last sentence - Auggie who loves you - another man who does - does what? Did Eyal just tell me he loves me? She couldn't tell if her brain wasn't working or if Eyal was being deliberately obscure. "That's better," he said, gesturing at the light. "It's a beautiful lovely day out, Neshema. I'm taking you to the beach."

"The beach?"

"Yes," he said, looking at her for a moment with real concern, realizing she must never have looked out the window. He quickly wiped away his somber expression with a smile. "Yes, the beach. Didn't I tell you the beaches in Israel are the best in the world? Better than the French Riviera?" She went over to the window, stared out through the slats. The blue ocean was only a hundred meters away. She sat down, for a moment exhausted. "It's Hebrew," she said."That's the nurses's accent, that's what they are writing on the chart. It's _Hebrew_. "

"It usually is, in Israel."

He had a cheap oversized beach bag with him, and now he pulled out a suit for her. It was the plainest black one-piece she'd ever seen, with a high neck, capped shoulders, full back coverage and a skirt. She lifted it up by one strap. "The Amish make bathing suits?" He smiled broadly and she saw him relax a little more with her.

"Well, I didn't know how you'd feel, going out in a crowd for the first time in a while. And I didn't want you to think I was planning on taking some pervy advantage of you." She continued to dangle it from her finger.

"I'll wear the other one, Eyal."

"What other one?"

"The other one I'm positive you have in the bottom of that big bag of yours."

"Very good, Annie Walker. You know me." He dug for a moment, pulled out another plastic bag, tossed it over to her. She fumbled slightly at the sudden throw, but caught it. The second suit tumbled out onto her lap. It was still far from the most revealing bathing suit she'd ever owned, but it was bright red, the same shade as her car back home, and had a deep back. "Now that's more like it."

"I'm glad you approve. I'll leave you to put that on - there's a sarong to wrap around yourself, and some sandals. No heels, sorry."

"I'm not sure I'd _remember_ how to walk in heels."

"Like riding a bike, it will all come back to you."

"Will it?" she asked, briefly serious, looking up as she tested the sandals. They fit perfectly.

"Yes, Annie, it will," he said, quietly. "I guarantee it."

He'd even thought to bring her a pair of sunglasses with big lenses, making her look like a publicity-shy movie star. But the sunlight was so bright after the dim room that it did hurt her eyes, and she was grateful for them. Life seemed so busy outside, especially as they drew close to the beach itself, following a winding cement path down from the facility which was on top of a small cliff overlooking the ocean. The beach was a popular one, filled with fit young Israelis and a few families. In the excitement of leaving the facility - and of being with Eyal - she hadn't had time to be anxious. But now, walking toward the water, she could feel the familiar chilling sensations emerging in her stomach. But she didn't want to appear weak and ... foolish with him. His free hand grazed her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze.

"We're doing good?"

"Um hm," she replied, her lips tight. He had noticed something about her, some hesitation she was unaware of.

They stepped forward onto the sand, which felt warm through her sandals, a few grains pushing their way in through the leather straps. She walked quite normally, she thought, through the irregular rows of blankets and umbrellas and for-rent loungers. She stared at the water. It was a moderately calm day, waves coming in, sending up a soft froth that children half her size were playing in happily. He spread out a thin blanket on the sand. He held out to her a tube of suntan lotion and proceeded to take off his pants, revealing his swimming shorts, and pull his shirt off over his head. She was startled and staring. Something was different - "You're not shaving your chest!"

"Ah, you remember, from Zurich? I was fresh off of seducing a diplomat's wife for information. She had a thing against body hair. And besides," he added confidentially, "Going _au naturel _conceals _some_ of the scars at least. Do my back, would you?"

"Sure." For a moment she was mesmerized by those scars, now inches from her nose. It was quite a map, and she had been present when some of them were created. Just before he could ask if she'd gotten lost, she began smearing on the lotion, too fast, too nervously, then too slowly, too seductive-seeming, then back to much too quick. And much too wet. She'd used twice as much as she needed, and rubbed it into her own arms and tried to erase the white residue from him. This was great. She could not even confidently apply suntan lotion to Eyal's back. "There you go!" she said, handing back the tube.

"Would you like me to do you?" And she waited too long to answer that, finally saying "Sure!" again and turning her back to him. He gently moved her hair out of the way and covered her back perfectly. Not too fast, not too slow. Not too firm a pressure, not too light. Then a few kneads along the top of her shoulders, which felt wonderful and made her realize how tightly she was holding herself - and probably had been for weeks, no matter what medications they were giving her.

"You can keep doing that forever."

"I'll hold you to that." He kept rubbing her shoulders until a child's ball bounced onto their blanket, followed by several squealing children bent on retrieving it, breaking their connection. "Ready to go in?"

"You go first. I'm going to sit here for a few minutes."

"Okay." He waited an instant, as if willing her to change her mind, but then ran to the edge of the water, waded in a few feet, then dove in.

He returned, his arms raised so he could push back his wet hair as he ran back up the sand, looking vigorous and powerful. "The water's perfect, " he announced, settling back down beside her. She stared out at it. "You know I nearly drowned this time."

"Yes, I know."

"So they briefed you?"

"Not on everything. Nothing - operational. But a few things, things that might be problems for you." He lay beside her, silent. "Look, Annie, a lot of it I probably can't help you with. That's what they're up there for. But this? Swimming? Water? This I think I can do for you, Annie. Let me?" He looked at her with his most appealing smile, one that was impossible not to smile back at. "Besides, Annie, this beach is very special. It has a mermaid."

"Oh Eyal, really? You expect to coax me into the water with a story about a mermaid?"

"It's true. It's been in all the newspapers. Of course, certain unromantic individuals believe it is nothing but a marketing ploy for a local hotelier - but I'm a believer."

"Really? You really think if I go into the water, I'm going to see a mermaid?"

"I don't know about that. But I absolutely believe _I_ will see one. Let's go."

She got to her feet, took a step toward the water, but hesitated, all her fears flooding her. He swept her up in his arms.

"What?"

"She who hesitates is lost, and I'll never let you be lost, Annie."

"Wait! Stop! Eyal, put me down! Eyal, I'm _serious_!"

"As you wish."

Splash.

He had been kind to her; the water was only knee deep as she scrambled to her feet. And it was perfect, slightly warm, buoyant, and spiced with the evaporated salt of the Mediterranean, so different from the sweeter Pacific waters she had grown to love with Ben. She'd had no fear of the water then, not on their first encounter or when they had found each other again. He had been everything for her. Then there had been Simon, on the shores of Cuba, and suddenly the landscape of love had opened up wider than she had imagined possible. And now she was here with Eyal, his dark eyes watching her every move. A slightly larger than usual wave crashed against her, and she felt a brief moment of panic, breathed in a noseful of foam, and it left her coughing. Eyal said nothing, let her compose herself, but stayed near. She glanced back at him and for a moment, before he realized she was looking at him, she saw an expression of such passionate tenderness on his face that it made her miss another wave and that one knocked her off her feet, submerging her, startling her. But there was Eyal, his face a professional, competent mask now, helping her to her feet, standing beside her through a dozen waves, then, finally, stepping away from her. moving beyond where the slope of the beach entered into the sea. He swam in place. "Come to me, Annie. Let me take you into deeper water. You know I won't let you drown." And she pressed her feet against the small smooth pebbles, kicked off, and swam to him.


	2. Taking the Curves At Speed

Walking back to the facility, she noticed that they were not alone. "How many people did they have watching us?" she asked, softly.

"I'm proud of you, Annie. You're making excellent progress. You didn't notice any of them on our way out. I counted six."

"That's a lot. Am I so dangerous, or in danger?"

"We're more careful in Israel. But there was another patient from the facility on an outing. Still, that doesn't count several decoy kids. Family on the blanket two over from ours? Not there for the sunshine."

"Ah. I see. So, will you come to see me again?"

"They told me I'd need to wait a day or two, let them evaluate the "success" of our little get-together. Then, it was suggested, I might be allowed to take you for lunch." He'd pulled on a different shirt, one that buttoned up, and he started to do the buttons.

"Don't. Treat the nurses."

"Are you always so generous? Don't get me wrong, I like you showing me off."

"I think they've been very kind and patient with me. I have to thank you, Eyal. I feel like a different person from this morning."

"You look like the Annie I know, now."

"Won't they send me back to the states soon?"

" I don't know. There's an interest in you but they didn't think you were up to debrief. Had tried, I gather. "

They entered the lobby. Eyal signed her back in. Annie smiled. The lobby and counter area was more than fully staffed; every female, nurse or otherwise, must have come up with a reason to watch her return with her companion.

Eyal's therapy passed muster; he would be permitted to take her to lunch. With Eyal's usual thoroughness, a dress had arrived for her. It was pretty, relatively modest, in a variegated blue fabric that was pleasant to touch, somewhat close in color to the dress she had been wearing during part of their second stay in Zurich. That had been a difficult time; she hoped today would not remind her of it.

The Lamborghini Aventador at the curb was bright yellow and brand new, with its roof panels removed and open to the sun, the open car doors stretching up like wings. "This is your car?"

"Borrowed for the day. School friend father's a dealer. Thought it might cheer you up, though I wanted a red one for you. We'll have to make do." he said, helping her in. He got into the driver's seat. "I had to submit a plan for our little date together," he said, starting the car. "So, I'm sure whatever tail we've been assigned will catch up," he said, wheeling out of the driveway so fast that it left her breathless, power conquering perfect smoothness – her head jerked at the shift. She swallowed. Just as he had shepherded her through the water, now it was apparently time for her to remember fast cars and edgy driving. Her anxiety lingered for at least a minute; she caught him checking her out, but managed to force herself to relax before he could ask the dreaded "Are you okay?". She _was_ okay, or very nearly so. She watched him power through the streets of the town and head out, into the open road, aiming for the mountains beyond. She watched him closely, caught the rhythm.

"Can I drive?"

He didn't ask her anything foolish, if she had her license on her or if she was up to it, just pulled over, smiling. This was obviously part of his plan. She slid over, adjusted mirrors, was ready to go by the time he made it to the other side of the car. There was an expression that could have been regret or, possibly, a touch of fear on his face, but he suppressed it as she pulled out. They were ascending and the road turned into a series of switchbacks; perfect. She had one almost-bad shift and then her ears and hands and feet were tuned to the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Stay on this road. The restaurant is near the top. It's a beautiful view that I want you to see. I don't know how long you'll be in my country; I have to make you love it quickly."

She laughed. She was sure he wanted her to just love the landscape. "This car is helping! Oops." She took the curve slightly too fast, held it, adjusted. But the adrenalin was dissipating, replaced by something else. At the earliest opportunity, she found a pull-out. "Your turn again."

"Thanks."

Annie strapped herself back into the passenger seat. She was shaking a little; she hadn't even been close to spinning out or going off the road and yet she was trembling. Far from a hundred percent, as much as she would like to think that an afternoon out at the beach and now this lunch with Eyal could suddenly wipe away all of the trauma. But this surprised her; she could understand the fear of the water after the explosion on the ship, and of being trapped, but of driving? Speed itself? That wasn't her.

Maybe she wouldn't be fit for service again. Ever.

What would happen to her then?

Maybe a real job at the Smithsonian. Maybe another life entirely. She watched in silence as Eyal expertly guided the car up the mountain. If he knew she was feeling uneasy, he gave no sign and certainly did not hold back. They abruptly pulled into a parking area and there was the cliff-clinging restaurant with a view stretching to the sea and beyond. They got out and he took her by the elbow over to a low wall to sit for a moment.

"You're quiet."

"The drive made me nervous. I don't do nervous well."

"You're being too hard on yourself. I just signed you out of a nerves clinic for the afternoon. Look at where you were three days ago …well, let's not go there."

"I know. But what if I don't make it all the way back, Eyal? What then?"

"Annie, you're going to be just fine. All that you've been through without blinking? You'll get through this too. It's taking a little longer this time, that's all, and that's why it's good I'm here to help you. Look around. Enjoy the view." He pointed out a few landmarks to her. "My family used to come here for special occasions. It wasn't "Israeli Fusion" cuisine then, just Jewish."

"Does your family still live around here?"

"My parents do. They moved from the kibbutz after – after the incident. But let's go in. I see our tail has finally caught up." A nondescript sedan with two people in it was just entering the lot. "Let's go have lunch. I look forward to losing them entirely on the way down."

"Sit here," Eyal commanded, negating her chair choice and pulling out a different one. "Better view," he said, settling down opposite her.

"But what about you?" His back was to the window now.

"I have a different idea of what constitutes the most beautiful view today." It also kept his eyes on the door, but she smiled at the compliment anyway. He ordered them some beverages – lemonade? She looked at him quizzically.

"You'll like it, it's sweet and has saffron in it. Sorry. I'm under orders from your doctors not to intoxicate you."

"Too late for that."

"Oh really?" He learned toward her, head resting on his hand, brightening.

"Well, hard to tell if it's you, the car, the view or the thought of something that's not portion controlled and out of the clinic kitchen. But in any case, the combination is pretty deadly." She let her eyes shift away first, finding her self gazing at his earlobe rather than those dark, sparking eyes. That wasn't much better, actually; she'd always fancied his prominent lobes, wondering how they would feel in her lips, if he was one of those men whose ears were sensually sensitive, what they would be like to chew on just a little bit. And then there was that broad, petal-like lower lip surrounded by the quickly-emerging beard that fought against him ever being perfectly clean-shaven for very long. That would feel like sandpaper against her soft skin…

"What do you recommend?" she asked, returning her gaze to the menu.

"Do you really want to know?"

The question seemed fraught with inner meanings, as if he had been tracking her thoughts perfectly. "Yes," she replied, letting herself look at him, really look at him. Catching her gaze he mouthed a word without speaking. She squinted slightly. He smiled and leaned closer, whispering so softly she could hardly hear him, even as his lips just brushed her ear.

"The brisket, With …"

"Yes?"

"Truffles." He spoke it firmly and the word exploded in her ear as she felt his warm breath against her eardrum.

She swallowed. He leaned away.

"The brisket with truffles," she repeated.

"It's very good."

The waiter arrived with the lemonades in tall, dramatic glasses, looking like liquid gold from the saffron infused with the lemons, a beading of moisture all along the exterior of the cold glasses. He raised his to her and they clicked. "To your speedy recovery, Annie."

He threw the key at her as they approached the car. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You know the road now."

She smiled. "Thanks." He helped her in through the wing door and she readjusted the seat. There was such a difference- he was so tall against her petite frame. How would it work if they …

Concentrate on the car, Annie,

"Where can I really open it up without too much of a chance of getting pulled over?"

"As if they could catch you?"

"I'd rather not interrupt my stay at the hospital with a stay in jail."

"Ok. Keep going on this road then, I'll tell you when to turn off. It's better to take a different route back. Twice the experience of life that way."

Lunch had made him philosophical, apparently.

"I'm for that!"

She took them back down the mountain, feeling her own hesitation but not conveying it to the vehicle, or to Eyal. By the end of the run she was exhilarated and he directed her to a long stretch of road clinging to the base of the hills., straight with the occasional soft curve and little traffic. The acceleration seemed to suck the air out through the open roof; she had to breathe more intently, with attention; there was a yoga to it, a pulse. She glanced over him in pure joy and saw him checking his watch. Her heart sank.

"Are we late? Do we need to go back?"

"Eventually. We've covered quite a bit of territory – are you up for a real adventure?"

She was delighted he did not seem to intend that she turn around any time soon. "Of course!"

"I'm warning you - The definition of adventure is "a bold undertaking with uncertain outcome"."

"Sounds good to me."

"Take the next turn. I'm taking you home to meet Mother."

The car attracted instant attention in the pleasant, upper middle class neighborhood, especially among the teen boys who appeared out of nowhere. "You can park over there. " She slid into the spot at a snail's pace. She had no fear now on the open road, but she was nervous about bumping a struggling tree. The slowness now seemed to suit Eyal fine, and she sensed that he was wondering if this was really such a good idea. He gave her a bright if somewhat forced smile and then got out of the car with determination, calling to one of the boys he knew and putting him in charge of keeping the others away from the vehicle. He helped Annie with the door and she followed him into a three-story building of flats. "Do they know what you do for a living?"

"Yes, though my mother mainly concentrates on what I _don't_ do for a living, which is not being a surgeon."

"Of course."

"You'll meet my father as well, but, he is less – dramatic."

"So, they will know – or figure out – I'm a "colleague"?

"My mother will figure it all out, make no mistake."

At a door on the second floor, after a brief, final hesitation, Eyal knocked and called out "Ma?"

"Eyal? Eyal! It's been so long! It's Eyal." They heard some vague, distant response from, presumably, his father. His mother, a short woman who barely came up to his chest, spotted Annie behind him and froze.

"And who is this?" she said slowly, her eyes boring into Annie. Eyal was for once speechless, or his mother was holding him so firmly turned away from Annie that he couldn't struggle free enough to introduce them.

"Annie Walker. It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Levin," she said, in Hebrew.

"Oh, an A-mer-ican. Who speaks Hebrew, how nice."

"Annie is a colleague of mine from work…."

"Of course she is." There was something chilling in the tone. Annie retracted her hand, which no one was going to take. "Such a pretty _blonde_, _American_, _colleague_ from work." She released her grip on her son. "Come in, come in. I can't keep you out in the hallway." She didn't add the "as much as I want to do just that" but Annie heard it just the same. They entered the parlor, which was nicely decorated with comfortable furnishings and Israeli folk art.

"We don't get to see Eyal as often as we would like, because of his _work_, which is so important that he left medical school in his last year and never went back, the work of which you are a _colleague_. Come, I will get you something to drink, and eat."

"We just came from lunch," Eyal said, without much hope.

"Sit down!" she advised Annie. "This chair, this is the nice one," she added, patting off imaginary dust "The place of honor for guests. And _colleagues_." Eyal's father, wearing glasses, came into the room, a newspaper under his arm. Eyal greeted him, turning his attention away just long enough for his mother to hiss into Annie's face "He's married, you know!" Annie backed away as far as she could, which was not much, her head bumping up against the ladder back of the chair.

"Divorced, Ma! You know that! Divorced!"

"Married with a child! A son! Who he should be with! Who I never see! Whom he abandoned!"

"Rebecca left me, remember, Ma…"

"Of course she did! You gave her no choice!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Levin, but I'm just a colleague from …"

"Just a colleague? Just a colleague? You think that my son cares so little about me that he would bring "just a colleague" into my home, in front of the neighbors, who all know where he should be and who he should be with and what he should be doing? You think my son loves me so little that he would do that to me _if he didn't love you_?"

"I –" There was nothing in her CIA training or life experience that she could think of to call on for this moment.

"Ma, leave Annie alone. This was a mistake. I'm sorry. Come on. We're leaving."

"Without anything to eat? Or drink? The hospitality of my house is not good enough for your shiksa bride?"

"I am not his bride, Mrs. Levin…" His father made a gentle protest, shrugged, and left the room with his newspaper still under his arm. "You are not going anywhere, Eyal Levin! Or you will never come in this house again! By yourself or with _any_ bride, forbidden or not!" Mrs. Levin stormed into the kitchen, shouting as she went and emerging now and then, poking with a kitchen implement to make a point.

"You will stay, you will eat and drink at my table. She is so skinny right now, your children will be midgets. And so help me, they may be the children that permanently ends this family's _four thousand year_ relationship with God, but they will still be your children with our name and I will not have them be midgets! I will not have this!" She brought forth a platter piled high and slammed it down on the table. "Brisket! You will eat this!"

Annie nodded and picked up a fork .

Eyal was silent as she drove them away. Beyond, the sun was sinking toward the sea. The 'Gini was obedient to her every move now, though it still occasionally jerked a little between gears, something that she now realized was a flaw in the car, not her. "Of the two, I think I preferred the general experience of the first brisket with truffles, but for most memorable atmosphere, your Mom's kitchen wins hands down."

"Annie, I am so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Hey, you told me it was an adventure. "Of uncertain outcome" was what you said. So you read me in. And, for that matter, you told me when we first met in Zurich that my not being Jewish would be a problem when you took me home to meet Mother. " Strangely, she felt wonderful. Part of it was probably just escaping from the Levin kitchen. Eyal stretched and relaxed a little. It was nice to be worrying about him, she realized, and not be the center of concerned, soft-voiced attention.

He smiled and adjusted his seat belt. "That's right, I did. Actually I may have underestimated it a bit.

"You think?"

"You're taking this amazingly well."

His mother, who knows him well, said that he loves you. **That's** why you're so happy.

The thought unfortunately had the effect of calming that happiness. Did she really want to accept the opinion of someone she worried was going to turn on her with the knife she was using to carve the brisket? More importantly, did she want Eyal Levin in love with her? And if she did, what did that mean about her feelings for him? "Am I?" she said, nonchalantly.

"Better than I am, certainly."

"Am I on the right road, by the way?"

"I'm not being much of a navigator. Sorry. Turn up there. We can head back. I expect your appetite for adventure is well over for the day."

She kept her eyes straight ahead, on the road, and accelerated so that she could shift for the pleasure of it."Not necessarily…"

Something of the usual glint was coming back into his eyes, or maybe they were just catching a spark from the soon-to-be-setting sun.

"Oh? I'm feeling an overwhelming need to remind myself I am an independent adult, for some reason. Are you up for a drink, Annie?"

"I thought that was forbidden to me," she said, slowly.

"As you are forbidden to me," he answered. "Let's take the next turn, Annie Walker."


	3. Beyond the Green Flash

The building was higher security than his parents', with a buzzer, a desk attendant, a code for the elevator. She wondered if it was an official Mossad housing block, but it seemed a tad too luxurious for that, with a neo Art Deco elevator with ornate brass trim. The carpet was thick, and the lock to his apartment was a fingerprint keypad. Of course they both knew many ways to get by such a device. He shrugged and acknowledged it. "Keeps out the amateurs at least."

She stepped inside. The first thing that she noticed was the quiet, the sense of sanctuary, the muted, masculine colors, chocolate browns and tans and a leather couch with silver silk cushions. The wall leading along from the door was covered with photographs in matte metal frames. The one nearest the door caught her eye; a background view of the Eiffel Tower announced it was from Paris and showed, from a distance, a young woman sitting at a table, her big purse at her feet, watching something herself, in the deeper distance. The image had been Photoshopped; the bag color was changed, and though the woman in the frame was so tiny as to be unrecognizable, she was brunette, not blond. She glanced at the other photos; the topics and images were wide-ranging, from landscapes to city scapes to interesting ethnic faces and a few birds and animals. Eyal was quiet beside her. "Are these yours? I didn't know you were a photographer."

"Played around in it in school and picked it up again doing surveillance; why not do a good photo? Found I could capture some useful extra details with a little more care."

"There's a lot of interesting detail in this one." The one you see first coming home, and last when you're leaving, she thought.

"Ah, well, Paris, you know. City of Romance. Hard to take a bad photo of Paris. Though I did have to adjust the color a little on that one."

"Got a thing for brunettes, I take it."

"Got a thing for no one knowing my "things". Come on, let's have that drink."

"A sazerac?"

"Too early. The wormwood is better for late at night and when you need that bitterness. That's not what I want now." He had a well-appointed bar - big enough for two - somehow she doubted that he often threw a cocktail party for more. He slid behind it and into the role of bartender easily. "Besides, I lost some of my taste for them in your home town."

"I thought you enjoyed the one you had at the Parchment at least."

" If you remember, you wouldn't have one." She smiled, remembering; she had rejected "his" drink at every opportunity. It had seemed too much of a surrender, to be complicit in the choice of beverage, and now, she took an odd and telling pleasure in knowing it had stung him.

"But I did, Eyal, on the last night there."

"I remember distinctly, Annie, - believe me I do - every detail of that night, and you didn't order my Sazerac."

"The next night, Eyal. When I hoped you'd escape again. That's when I ordered one." Having said it, she regretted it – did he need to know, even now, that she had sought him out again, nursing a first Sazerac, then a second, her sexy black dress gradaully becoming a sign of her sadness, of mourning something just lost?

He paused for a moment, placed his large hand over her small one. "I didn't know that," he said, then moved to open a bottle of champagne expertly, cushioning the cork with a bar towel, losing none. "Mossad didn't take any chances the second time," he said, maneuvering bottles, developing the drink in front of her. "The wound was clean, they held me over night and then I was carefully escorted from the hospital to the airport. They even popped for an escort and first class - better security, more room for the sling, and thankfully, much more legroom. I was in the plane sitting on the tarmac at about the hour we'd met the night before. I wondered then where you were." He slid the golden bubbling glass toward her. "I didn't think you'd be looking for me," he said, softly, meeting her eyes, then picked up his own glass. "Champagne cocktail a la Maxim's in Paris. A good drink for the sunset," he added, gesturing toward the light through the window, which was taking on shades of gold and amber and pink. "Please do not be alarmed, but the only sunset viewing balcony is through my bedroom. Purely architectural luck."

"How convenient."

"Well, only at sunset." They made it safely past the big bed; he obviously liked to stretch out in comfort, unaccompanied or not.

The full view of the western sky was dazzling; his apartment was on the top floor and the balcony was open to the sky, free of any canopy. The colors were only improving, deepening, and the sun took on a russet color as it started to sink into the near-purple sea.

She sipped her drink. It was perfect, alive with bubbles from the champagne, given a deeper flavor from the cognac. A feeling of déjà vu swept over her. Why did this seem so familiar? Then she realized. She had experienced this moment in her mind before, in many locations, in the intervening time since she had last seen him, even when her heart and body was called in other directions, she had often found herself thinking of him at sunset, because of his parting words describing a lovely evening he hoped they would one day have, beginning as the sun dropped into the sea. As it was now. Eyal belonged to the darker hours, somehow. Where with Auggie, if he were still sighted, they would have been out in the sunlight constantly, running, or rock climbing, playing like kids. Eyal was more like the Sazerac he favored; with a underlying taste of bitterness that could be more addictive than the happy, bright flavors that seemed to belong to Auggie and his world, though he ironically was the one who lived in constant night.

She took a deep breath and it seemed to pull the sunset into her; her own breath made her tingle and tremble. She swallowed so she could speak.

"This is it, isn't, Eyal. Your sunset evening."

His hands slipped around her waist; a feeling of desire, fear, safety and - she relented and used his word – kismet, fate, filled her. "It can be, Annie."

The colors intensified still more. Maybe there were thousands of sunsets yet to come, but this one was exceptional. He kept his hands in place but she could feel his fingers kneading gently against her; she stayed still for a long time, watching the light change and feeling similar changes in herself. Then it seemed natural to lean her head back slightly and find his shoulder; to look up and see his deep brown eyes, now at their warmest, gazing down at her; to feel him take the glass from her hand and set it aside and then press his lips onto hers, turning her toward him. She let her hands glide up to reach around his neck and let her fingers tangle in his hair. He looked into her eyes, as if seeking some final confirmation there. Her back was to the sunset but she could see it reflected in the glassdoors, and in a spot of light in his slid her fingers between two of the buttons on his shirt, and his energy shifted; the kiss became more urgent, more demanding as she pressed her body against him. She wasn't a big believer in auras, but it seemed she could feel his vitality swirling around her, awakening her skin, intoxicating her through her pores, beyond where he was actually touching her with his large, warm hands It seemed liek every slow step he was guiding them through - back from the balcony, into the bedroom - was a step toward life for her. Or maybe she was just rationalizing the intense desire she felt for him. Their slow progress ended as he just picked her up and then carried her over the last few feet before pressing her against the grey raw silk coverlet.

"What was that?" The last rays of the sunset shifted to a brief moment of emerald light illuminating the ceiling in the darkening room.

"I think that was the "Green Flash" from the sunset.

"Isn't that a myth?"

"It's real. it just happens when all the circumstances come together to allow it Then the light of the sun creates a mirage of green before sinking into the sea.I've seen it before sailing but never here, in my bedroom. Supposedly seeing it gives powers of great discernment to the heart, if you believe Jules Verne, to know one's own heart and that of others. Does your heart feel more discerning now? Is it bad luck for me?" She hit him with the pillow.

"Well, I think we've at least proved that conditions are ideal tonight." Would she want to know her own heart better than she did already? "As for the rest..., I think I _am_ feeling more discerning and my heart is guiding me to go ... right here." She was very pleased with his brief yelp of surprise.

The shower was walled with slate instead of tile. Through the skylight above she could see the stars emerging. Eyal joined her. "I called the clinic. If anyone asks you, we had a flat tire."

"Did they believe you? Should we hurry?

"No need. The car still has three other tires to go if need be," he said with a slow smile. "We have time. For this." The slate wall of the shower was warm on her back. Like the night sky above, she felt full of stars; they blended in her mind with the warm drops of water hitting her skin.

She emerged in a short robe belonging to him, a dark brown Japanese silk. He had pulled on pajama bottoms but no more; barefooted and bare-chested, he was mixing them another dirnk.

"Late enough for a Sazerac now." He washed the glasses with absinthe; the herby smell of it wafted to her nostrils.

"Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder, I hear."

"Not possible for me, Annie," he replied, pouring the sugar water and bitters and cognac into the glass, expertly cutting a spiral twist of lemon and abrading it to release the lemon oil from the skin. She watched his big hands wih their long fingers moving so adroitly, so gracefully, before handing her the glass. She waited while he completed his. But neither of them reached forward to clink glasses; he was right – the Sazerac was a later-in-the-evening drink, one already tasting of their parting.

And if seeing the green flash had given her greater discernment in her heart, all it was telling her thus far was that she did not want to go. At least, not yet.

They didn't claim to have blown another tire, but when he walked her into the clinic reception area, the chief doctor from the day shift was still waiting for a word with Eyal, who was swept off to an inner office.. Getting out of the car, Annie had discovered that she needed to move gingerly. The eagle eyed nurse at the desk immediately made a fuss. "It's nothing! Just turned my ankle a little getting out of the car…"

"It's okay. We will have the doctor look at it."

"It's fine! I mean, I'm sure it will be fine." The nurse followed her back to her room.

"I kept your dinner tray warm for you, in case you are hungry; do you want it?" Actually, she was starving and devoured it. The nurse seemed pleased and made a notation on her chart. But Annie could not resist going to see if the Lamborghini was still parked outside. It was; Eyal's scolding had taken some time. As she watched she saw him emerge and go to the car, apparently utterly unconcerned by whatever the doctor had said to him, moving with his usual power and grace. Seemingly sensing her eyes on him, he paused and looked back at the windows before going on, peeling out of the lot with a final flourish as if knowing she was watching.


	4. Beware of Pseudo-Cypriots Bearing Gifts

"Miss Walker? Annie? "The question?"

"Oh, yes, sorry, I was … thinking of something else."

"You are not doing so well today. I think you must be exhausted from your long day out yesterday."

"Em huh." Great, now her cognitive therapist probably thought she was sliding backwards into inarticulate gibberish. Instead, it was her body betraying her, reminding her, with an occasional twinge.

"I mean, yes, I agree, it was tiring and stressful, what with the flat tire and all."

"You will feel better in a day or two, I am sure. Now, I will read to you a series of numbers, and you are to repeat back to me as many as you can."

Numbers. How many times had they kissed? That first time, on the balcony, then while moving from the balcony, that was two, then…

"Miss Walker? Annie? You repeat the numbers back again please?"

"Oh, sure, sorry. Um, could you repeat them again? " Repeat … this was so not what she wanted repeated. She shifted in her seat, tried to sit up and pay attention, but the motion only reminded her of an area that had received very special attention recently.

"I will say a string of new numbers." The therapist spoke more slowly this time, perhaps rewarding her effort to sit up and pay attention. 'Oh- Oh- 6-4-6-9-1-1-7-2-0-2-8-9-Oh'.

Ooh, ooh. That was easy to remember, she'd said that quite a bit. Sixty four, the supposed number of postures in the Kama Sutra. Sixty-nine – Annie, calm down,she told herself, not all of these numbers can possibly have a sexual meaning. One hundred seventeen, the number of verses in the Song of Solomon which both the Chrisitan and Hebrew Bibles shared, twenty, according to a copy of Cosmopolitan she found in the seat back pocket on a plane, the average length in seconds of the female orgasm. Twenty-eight, the days of her usual cycle and had they been giving her birth control pills in that little cup every morning? She didn't think so. Nine – the average, in months, of human gestation. Oh! Indeed.

"Zero - zero-six-four-six-nine-one-one-seven-two-oh-two-eight-nine-zero."

"Very good!"

"Just had to find a way to concentrate," Annie said.

"Go to the front desk," the nurse told her. "Right now – you have a delivery." Annie wondered what that could possibly be, and since Eyal's scolding by the doctor the previous evening, she doubted that the was being allowed to see her today. Or tonight … the evening had been cut too short.

But there he was, grinning, a small paper shop bag hanging from its loop in his hand. "HI annie. Sorry I can't stay. But you left your bag in the car. It's already been searched by this lovely woman here, so I can give it to you." The close to elderly attending nurse was beaming.

"Oh, thank you," she said, reaching for it. He let the loop stay tangled in his fingers for a much longer moment than necessary, enjoying the touch. She glanced in the bag, seeing several things in it, and she was jolted by the intensity of happiness this present from him brought her. Under his arm was another, less fancy bag with something square in it. "Oh, and my mother sent along these," he said, passing them to her.

"Your mother?" The bag contained a clear plastic box of something that looked like pfeffernusse. But it was in a bakery-type box- there was even a label sealing the box, and it didn't say "Levin Baked Goods".

"Yes, I think she's warming up to you, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yes, she paid you a compliment."

"Oh really?"  
"She said, and I quote, that for a skinny girl you ate your way through much more brisket than she anticipated."

"That's a compliment?"

"Trust me, that is."

"So she thinks the chance of me producing undersized children is dropping?"

"Something like that."

The nurse broke in. "The doctor is coming! You must go!"

"Breaking the rules as usual, I see."

"Always for you, Annie. Take care. " He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, accompanied by a concealed squeeze on a different cheek. "Hopefully I'll be off probation shortly!"

"Go, go, go, go now!" Eyal slipped away, Annie took her treasures back with her past the nurse, who regarded her with a warm smile. She bounced back to her room, contemplated the bag itself for a moment, then scrutinized its contents. Of course nothing was gift-wrapped – these were things she had presumably bought for herself. The thought of Eyal shopping in a tourist shop for her filled her with pleasure, it seemed so incongruous to think of him spinning the rack displays. Keychain – probably with an Israeli flag. No, the Lamborghini symbol. Very nice. A pocket guide to Israel – it would be nice to have something to read and recreate their day - and a plasticized folding map. A few postcards of pretty spots and one close to the view they could see from the restaurant where they had lunch. A mermaid magnet. And another book, not a current one, a vintage copy of something. "Mystical poets of the Middle East". It had a bookmark – oh now, _there's_ the flag of Israel – stuck into it. There was no dedicating, no "for Annie" or , as she would prefer, Neshema. That would sadly be too obvious. She toyed with the book a bit before giving in and opening it to the marked page.

_This Then is the Reason_

_Anonymous_

_After a thousand hours of scanning the horizon from the parapets_

_Spyglass in hand_

_Sure we are looking for the voyager, _

_For a rich ship filled with as many perfumes as it can hold_

_Or dangerous invaders, or a fleet of pirates, companies of soldiers,_

_Or a storm of dust or air or water._

_None of these are true_

_No, not one_

_This is no watchtower but a lighthouse_

_Its fiery lens shines yearning for a flash from the hidden heart in the sun_

_This, then, is what is sought,_

_This, then, is the answer,_

_This, then, is the reason:_

_Love._


	5. An Unexpected Guest

Annie walked along the corridor back to her room. The clinicians felt she was making progress; no one had to escort her to and from various therapy sessions now, she was considered capable of doing that on her own, so she was alone when she swung open her room door and found Joan Campbell sitting at the small round table.

"Joan!"

"Hello, Annie."

"What are you doing in Israel?"

"There was a banking conference in Tel Aviv. Occasionally, I do have to make an appearance and keep up with current trends in world banking. But I was glad to have the chance to check in on you. You look very well." Joan seemed surprised; if the last report was from a week ago, it would have mainly described Annie staring at the blankest of the room walls.

"I'm feeling much better. I've been getting some sun, swimming." Annie pulled up the other chair and sat down with Joan.

"That's good."

"With – did you ask Eyal to check in on me?"

"Eyal Levin? I'm not surprised he has shown up here, but no, I certainly did not request him to look in on you. As much as I appreciate his assistance at times, I don't generally send my wounded operatives into the hands of another nation's agency if I can avoid it. Even having you brought here to this facility was awkward, but since the incident happened in Israeli waters, it was difficult to avoid. Did he suggest I had?"

"No. He said it was Rivka but he seemed to think you or maybe Auggie would have arranged it. I just … wondered."

"So is he the force behind your sea and sun swim program?"

"Actually, yes."

"Wait. That's not suntan, that's blushing." Joan took a closer look, her long fingers and perfectly manicured but short nails tapping at Annie's cheek. "I'm wrong again. That's beard burn. Ah, now _that's_ blushing. Israel must have a much more liberal outlook on emotional therapy techniques than we do. But it looks like it is agreeing with you."

"Joan, I just, well, he took me to lunch and – ."

"I don't need to know the details, Annie. I'm glad there's a friendly face here for you ... especially given the psych eval on you I saw last, which used the phrase "semi-catatonic" in several places. But remember, Annie, you show up in a frail state in Israel, and Mossad is of course going to check you out. They won't miss a chance to get one of their operatives into a situation where you are again likely to be grateful for his help, when you are isolated, injured and perhaps a little more talkative than usual. Eyal is very very good at what he does, and he is especially good at it with women."

Joan was, unfortunately, right. "I know." She felt like a scolded child. But at least Joan was treating her perfectly normally. "And Annie, we never know all the cross currents. It's easy to think Israel is our friend, our ally, let the guard down. But for all we know, Eyal himself could be a double, passing along half of what he learns to Mossad and the other half to God knows who."

"You think Eyal's a double agent?"

"No, Annie, I'm just reminding you that there is always the possibility of much more going on, and it's easy to forget when they get close enough, and we start making excuses because we don't want to think we've already made a mistake and we start protecting our prior decisions. He's well beyond the traffic barriers and the guard post with you. You know this – but right now, you may not be thinking clearly, and I don't think we want to put his name on a Close and Continuing Relationship form for your file."

"Is there a form for Passionate but Sporadic?"

"Annie, while I'm happy to hear you make a joke, it's not something to joke about. I worry about you, of course as my operative first, but you're still a very young woman. Eyal is more experienced in this arena than you are, much more so." There was a strange look in Joan's eyes - was she _remembering_ something? About Eyal?

Annie did some quick math in her head, realizing with relief that she could again do quick calculations in her head. Joan and Eyal could not have more than a few year's difference in age either way between them. That might mean that they hit fieldwork at about the same moment…. And while Arthur and Eyal had little in common, they did fall roughly in the same category of tall, dark, and handsome spies.

"Joan, are you advising me out of personal experience here?"

Joan looked at her watch. "My flight is at five-thirty. I'm connecting through Switzerland, and taking a couple of meetings. Nothing like a few Swiss stamps in the passport to boost a banking executive cover. So I should be going. Given your apparent recovery, I anticipate that you will be coming home soon. We'll arrange some suitable follow-up care as needed. So enjoy your little vacation, Annie."

"Vacation? So I still have my job?"

"Why would you not?"

"Well, I thought having a breakdown was frowned upon … though Eyal did say…" She really was not herself, or she'd not have mentioned him again at this moment – or have tried to probe Joan's past.

"Just what did Eyal say?"

"Eyal did say that Mossad and the CIA had a similar outlook on one thing, that there was a ratio of sorts, and that with all the situations I'd been through, even with this, it was probably felt that there was a good chance that I would not be the one screaming uselessly in the corner if bullets started flying around me again. That if I kept it to one collapse for every twenty or thirty near death experiences, I'd probably still be employable."

"In this case, Mr Levin is I think correct. From your first day you've had an exceptionally - dramatic career."

"He did, of course, suggest that the CIA ratio would be much more forgiving than that of Mossad, but that the same principle would apply."

Joan sighed, a small smile playing about her lips. "Of course he would." Joan stood and picked up her bag. "Remember what I've said, Annie." And what you haven't said, Annie thought. "Get yourself back together however you can, and if Eyal Levin helps with that, that's fine. The advantages of familiarity can work both ways. In any case, I think we'll be keeping you a little closer to home for a while – though that may just inspire some sudden crucial business in the States for Eyal. Maybe it's time for you to kick back and learn another language. – I saw a report that we're short on Uyghur speakers and I don't think that's on your list. It would be a nice bridge between your Russian and your Chinese."

"You think I'll blend in well in Mongolia?"

"There's always room for another blond anthropologist. I had a very interesting time in the Solomon Islands once. Take care, Annie."

"You, too. And – thanks, Joan."

"My pleasure. Be well." A nurse opened the door and was shocked to find Joan there.

"Who are you? You did not sign in! How did you get in here?"

Turning back to Annie, Joan smiled and said, "I like to keep up my skills when I can. See you back at home."


	6. Into Thin Air

Eyal Lavin swore at himself in Hebrew and put the pillow back on the top shelf of his sparsely-filled closet. In a moment of weakness, before the maid's day arrived, he had pulled the pillow on which her fair head had lain for such a short period of time and stored it away. The act, in his more rational moments, made him feel he was turning into a fourteen-year-old girl with a bad crush. He had tried to rationalize it, especially since there was a single long golden hair on it – with the follicle attached, he'd checked – and it was just conceivable that there could be some situation where having a piece of Annie's DNA-sequencing material in his own possession would be useful, though the only situations he could think of were dire ones, if she'd been allegedly blown to bits, for example, and he could then prove to himself that she must still be alive because their sample wouldn't match his. More fantasy. But if that unlikely scenario was his purpose, sticking it up in the corner of the closet shelf was hardly a scientific way to store it.

Still, after the notification this morning, knowing they would soon be parted and what was soon to come for him, he was not inclined to let the maid just throw "her" pillowslip in the wash. At least he wasn't storing away the sheets, and he had washed their glasses already. Wasn't he man enough to allow himself this one irrational weakness?

Yeah, right.

He closed the mirrored closet doors firmly, wishing that those mirrors still contained the reflected image of the two of them, joining together at last, if only for a painfully short time. Of course he could never be completely sure that his living quarters were not constantly monitored in some way – their brief moments could be permanently recorded elsewhere - though he checked regularly with every device at his disposal, especially after the maid days.

He looked around his apartment, knowing he would soon be shutting it up – though appearing not to, of course – and in all likelihood, everything in it would eventually be removed and scattered, her pillow included, unless he took that another step and put it in with one of his escape caches elsewhere. But there was a small chance he would be back before any of that occurred, and in that case, her recent visit and the lingering energy of her presence would be mingling with the stale air and dust that would greet him on his return.

If he returned.

His cell phone buzzed, as he expected it would. "Hello?"

"Eyal? It's me, Annie. They're letting me out; they're sending me home."

"Oh? That's – " He couldn't come up with a word, even though he'd had all morning to prepare for this. "Ah…."

Actually, no word was the best word. She projected whatever she wanted or needed from him into the space.

"I know, Eyal. They have me on a flight out this evening. I was wondering…."

"If I can come and take you to the airport? Of course, Annie. Are you done there now? Can we spend the afternoon together?"

"I'm done."

"I'll be there shortly, Annie. See you then."

He picked up his keys and left, trying to decide what sightseeing they could do. All he really wanted to do, of course, was to hold her and perhaps find a quiet corner to make love with her again, but both activities would be risky; he'd want to give her some clue, something that would give her a thread to hang on to; to be able to look back and think, he must have known, he must have wanted to tell me, and if this was planned back then, then he probably is not dead or lost forever now. Even if by then he was.

She bounced out to the car, carrying a tiny roll-aboard bag that he realized would be filled with almost nothing but things he had bought for her – the sandals and swimsuits and "souvenirs". The dress she had on was the one she had worn for their day together and which he had removed from her during their lovemaking. She looked heart-stoppingly lovely; the enforced rest had wiped away some of the stresses that he had seen accumulate on her face over the past three years. A few – quite a few – of the nurses came out to say goodbye, along with the doctor, and he was jealous of the moments those goodbyes took her. But then she slid into the car beside him – his own car, not the Lamborghini this time – and she was his. He grasped her hand for a moment before he needed to drive and shift, and pulled away from the clinic.

"Sad to see me go?" she asked, wanting to hear him answer in the affirmative. But she knew the answer – it was clear from his expression, which mingled happiness at seeing her with something that looked like grief.

"You know the answers to questions like that, Annie. Of course I am. But you look energized and ready to be away."

"Ready to be away from the clinic, yes. But I wouldn't have minded extending my visit to Israel a little longer."

He squeezed her hand. "At least we have a few hours. What do you want to do?"

"I know I should suggest someplace historic or religious that I must see before leaving Israel this time. But actually there's something else I feel I must do before leaving Israel to fully appreciate its uniqueness…." He didn't reply. She looked at him. "Do I have to spell it out?"

So much for his own safe plans, where he could avoid giving her any hint or clue.

"No. Not at all."

Why did it tear at him so much to be opening his own door for the second time with her at his side? Two visits couldn't make it a habit, a pattern, couldn't make it feel more normal and right for him to be with her than to be entering his apartment alone. But it did. She stepped inside ahead of him, glanced at "her" photo, smiled at him, welcomed him into her arms with such eager warmth. This time she knew where the bedroom was and she was drawing him along to it as if this were her apartment, not his. Damn it, there would be one pillow missing from his bed. She might not notice, but that was unlikely – they both were trained to notice what was unexpectedly out of place, what was missing in a scene, and she could be so intuitive in his direction, she might know exactly why that one pillow was absent. In what he hoped passed for a burst of passion, he pressed her up against the wall of his bedroom just by the closet door, passionately kissing her and stroking her body with one hand while managing to slide open the door and feel around for the pillow with the other. Blocking her view with his chest and simultaneously providing what he trusted was a very distracting caress, he threw it blindly over his shoulder in the general direction of the bed. He'd check for more hairs later, when she was truly gone. She reacted slightly to the muffled sound from within the room, but by then he was moving her - if he were honest, she was doing most of the moving - toward the bed.

II.

The day was growing cool as they put themselves together to go to the airport. "You're going to be cold on the plane, those trans-Atlantic stretches can be chilly."

"If I have time I'll grab an Israeli flag hoodie at the airport."

"I might have something…" He pulled a black cardigan that he didn't know why he had kept – cardigans were not his style - out of the closet. On her petite frame, it would serve as a coat. "Not the most fashionable but should keep you warm when I'm not around to do it." Careful, he told himself. She shrugged into it. Even that looked good on her; he watched as she folded up the sleeves, which were otherwise covering her fingertips. "I love it!" He helped lift her hair out from under the collar and, inspired, picked up his hairbrush from the dresser and ran it through her hair slowly. That would do, he thought. She closed her eyes with the pleasure of it and her lips looked so kissable to him that he put aside the hairbrush and took her to him again.

III.

They arrived at the airport with little time to spare, which suited him. Perhaps she still wasn't a hundred percent "healed" – one hundred percent professional operative again – because her parting kiss was potent and she was clearly forgetting or ignoring that kisses in airports could be recorded, analyzed, _used_. He looked at her back moving away from him with relief; he had said and done nothing, really, that could compromise his impending mission. He sighed. Less, perhaps, than he had wanted to, nothing more than that "when I'm not around to do it" comment.

But then she slowed, looked back over her shoulder, as she always did, as he almost always observed from his private vantage points after seemingly fading instantly away – except this time he had stayed stock still, watching her go, it had not even occurred to him to do otherwise. Seeing him still there, she stopped in surprise and turned around fully – and his heart sank as she came back towards him.

"What's this? You never stay and watch me go. You always do that disappearing trick."

"Seemed impolite today," he smiled, hoping she'd drop it, think it was some gentlemanly gesture honoring the intimacy they had just shared.

"Maybe," she said, looking at him very closely. "But…" She paused, looked away from him, at the crowd in general, almost as if giving him the chance to slip away as usual. "Is there something you're not telling me, Eyal?" He flailed around for a response that she wouldn't see through in an instant.

"There are many things I don't tell you, neshema. One thing in particular I don't say."

"Oh?" she said, a challenging look in her eyes, and it felt as if they were now sliding into their usual repartee. "And why is that?"

"Because there might not be an answer back that I liked."

She put both her hands behind her, grasping the handle of her roll-aboard, lifting her head in an angle of challenge. "Try me."

"Oh, you might say the right words. You might even think you mean them." He interrupted the start of her protest. Where had this come from? Well, he had no choice now but to go through with it. "But you'd still be choosing to say them, or not. I'm a long way beyond choosing, Annie. One day, if I'm lucky, if I survive so long, you might join me there."

"Eyal, you're scaring me."

"Nothing to be afraid of," he said, determinedly, smiling.

"I'm not so sure," she said, and gathered his loose sweater tighter around her shoulders. He had put fear into her eyes, the last thing on earth he ever wanted to do.

"Well, I am," he told her, gathering her close. She was trembling a little, he could feel it. "Of course this is a harder parting," he whispered to her. "Before this, we could comfort ourselves with the thought that the reality could never be so good as the anticipation, that it was a good thing to part and not be horribly disappointed. Now that's shot." She giggled a little and he kissed her in a fun and teasing way – he hoped. "Till next time, and may it be soon." She smiled up at him.

But he hadn't fooled her at all. Because she went on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his ear and said something and then pulled away so fast and so determinedly that he was the one left without the chance to answer. An arriving plane had just disgorged its passengers, filling the concourse with hundreds of people dragging their carry-on luggage, sweeping away all trace of her.

IV.

It took a long time for Annie to get comfortable on the plane. No matter what he had said, their parting still unnerved her in a way she hadn't expected and made her doubt her own recovery. Maybe, as he said, it was just leaving him as a lover rather than the "friend", the "colleague", the "partner", but her inner antenna said otherwise. Outside the airplane windows,the sky was taking on its sunset colors and she wished she were watching it beside him instead of just snuggling into his sweater. She loved it but it was a bit itchy on her neck; she felt to see if the itchy bit was a tag she could pull out but her hand came away tangled with a thick hair, jet black. Even had the nubby root attached. She held it between her thumb and forefinger, feeling silly, but somehow glad to have even such a tiny part of him with her, in a reasonably permanent form. Maybe someday she'd want his DNA for some reason, she thought, sliding it into the small zipper pocket inside her purse. But that thought unnerved her, too; there were few happy situations where one wanted DNA samples of loved ones. She thought of what she had whispered to him, of brushing her lips against his ear. Perhaps he'd choose to disregard it because he'd know she had said it on impulse, even under duress, as a response and a protection against the dread their parting was inspiring in her. But no - she had genuinely startled him; she had felt that brief current leap between them, heart to heart, as he had heard her words and was stunned into disbelieving silence for the instant it took her to slip away.

This time, she was the one who disappeared.

**Author Note: Please review/fave/follow! This is one part of a group of stories mostly focusing around Eyal and Annie, with the exception of "We'll Always Have Paperclips" which is a brief flashback with an Eyal/Joan pairing. Hearing feedback makes it all worthwhile! "Mermaid Beach" is followed by "The Empty Quarter", which is rated M for adult themes and won't show up in the main default list unless you select "All" or "M". I've rated it that way for some disturbing violence, uncomfortable concepts, medical situations, intimate encounters, and other challenges for the characters. The Empty Quarter is a much darker-themed story so please be aware. (The already complete followup stories are much sunnier, but they won't make sense without The Empty Quarter!)**


	7. A Little Lagniappe

**Author's Note: Think of this as a DVD "Special Feature" - I didn't develop this because I thought it slowed things down a bit, but then I saw that some new readers were following the story even though it was marked "Complete" - so I thought I'd add it in as a little lagniappe. It would go sequentially at the end of the first chapter. Hope you enjoy it!**

They swam together parallel to the shore, just outside the surfline. Annie did the backstroke for a time, enjoying watching the sky; the waves still made her a little nervous, even with Eyal beside her, though she knew she had nothing to be concerned about.

"Come on. There's a little cove over there." She changed her stroke and looked to the shore at the secluded little cover. He let her swim ahead, which was fortunate; reaching shallow water, she misjudged with the waves and missed her footing, but he was there to steady her and just pick her up, setting her on the shore.

"Sorry."

"You're doing beautifully."

"When - when the incident happened, I got tangled up, I couldn't get away from the wreckage. I passed out. I don't know how I got to the surface."

She stared out at the surfline. She knew she might have to swim back to the main beach so she was unsure how much she wanted to talk about this, but for the first time, it seemed to be making sense in her head.

There was a single sunbather on the rocks, who dove off now, leaving the small patch of beach to them. Suddenly they were alone. Annie found that the absence of anyone else was immensely relaxing. She exhaled and sat down on the sand, clutching her knees, looking out to sea. Eyal sat by her and slid his arm over her shoulders. "People I'd been just talking with were dead in the water. I don't know what happened, just that there was an explosion on the boat. In our line of work, those are usually intentional, not a boiler exploding accidentally - we were being extracted out of Turkey ... I don't even know if I should be telling you any of this."

"Tell me what you want. If you don't want me to pass it on, I won't."

"But I've heard _you're_ a _spy_," she said, smiling and turning toward him, reaching out and tapping his nose with her index finger. "Wouldn't you say that regardless?" Somehow that finger slid down to tap his lower lip, and stayed there as she looked in his eyes; the sunlight gave them a little color, the slightest variation between the jet-black pupil and the deep mahogany-brown iris.

He wouldn't kiss her, she knew that. He would have been briefed on not doing just that thing, unless he had been ordered to seduce her in a weakened state, and she didn't think that type of instruction would have gone out just yet - she would have been thought too frail; after a debrief on this little beach date, that might change, but for now, he had probably just been told to observe and coax her along a little. He didn't need to do much of anything - just being in his presence seemed to give her clarity and peace - and what that really meant for her, she didn't know.

Hey, I can honestly claim insanity if I want to go back on this, Annie thought, and swiftly brushed her lips against his before utterly losing her nerve and pulling back with a little laugh. He smiled at her so warmly, as she had seen him looking at her briefly in the waves before he realized she was watching him. "Thank you," she said, now trying to turn it into something completely innocuous. "Thank you for bringing me out here today."

"You must know I'd do anything for you, Annie. A day at the beach? That's pure bonus." They were interrupted by a young couple scrambling over the rocks to reach the same small beach; they were breathing heavily as if they had run all the way from the parking lot.

"Probably time to go back," Eyal suggested, gently."Up for the swim or do you want to go over the rocks?" She realized she would really prefer the rocks, and that decided her in favor of swimming.

"It's getting hot. I'm up for the swim."

"Good for you. Let's go." He took her by the hand past the waves, then they dove in together, swimming along. Abruptly, he dove beneath the surface, staying under just long enough that she felt her heartbeat accelerate and she stuck her own head under - now realizing she had been avoiding that till now - and saw him just rising up again to the surface a few yards ahead of her as they rounded the point and began to approach the main beach.

"Hey! Where did you go?"

"Mermaid-spotting."

"Did you see her?"

"Absolutely!"

"You sure of that?"

He swam back to her. "Definitely, Annie, I definitely am."

"Oh I don't doubt you saw something. But I've heard there's a mer_**man** _swimming in these waters."

He splashed at her. She ducked, and even though she got a mouthful of salty water, she didn't mind. "Then they must be looking for each other, Neshema! Let's hope they find one another soon." He struck off ahead of her. "Last one to the beach carries back the beach bag!"

"Start flexing those muscles now, because you are _so_ going to lose!"

She knew he let her win, but that didn't make the victory any less sweet.


End file.
